Heartache Tonight
by iworkwithpens
Summary: He had told the staff there was going to be a heartache tonight. He was right. But he was so wrong about who and why and where. Post-Willie Pete fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Still reeling from Sunday night, and thus this little angsty piece. Sorry if you wanted fluff…I'm just not ready to go there yet. **

_Somebody's gonna hurt someone  
Before the night is through  
Somebody's gonna come undone  
There's nothing we can do  
~Heartache Tonight, The Eagles_

It turns out, being stabbed in the stomach by an angry protester, and being stabbed in the back by the man you loved, felt a lot alike.

There was that first moment of quiet static in your head. She assumed it was your brain trying to make sense of the irrational. Certainly, that couldn't be a knife protruding from her abdomen? And certainly Will couldn't be sitting at a bar, in midtown Manhattan, with Nina Howard leaning against his shoulder? Right?

The next feeling you had was numbly trying to walk away from the pain. Jim had once told her she stumbled nearly half a city block away from him, blood dripping down her torso, before he could convince her she was injured and needed to stop moving. She felt like that now. Would Jim grab her by the elbow soon, to shake her by the shoulders, and force her down onto the sidewalk until help arrived? And what kind of help would she need exactly? A trauma surgeon? A psychiatrist? She really couldn't decide which. She certainly felt like she had a gaping hole in her chest. Trauma surgeon it was then.

She hailed a cab, and somehow managed to remember her own address, and sat there numbly waiting for the streets of New York to open up and swallow her whole, because that was the only way this burning ache would subside. She was sure of it.

Vodka. Copious amounts of grain alcohol were going to be necessary tonight. It would be the only way to dull the pain. She knew that from experience. And it was all she had, aside from a half empty bottle of cabernet sauvignon. And a couple of glasses of red wine were not going to be anywhere near enough alcohol to drown her sorrows this time. She had spent far too many evenings, sipping wine and fortifying herself for another day of Will's push and pull, his alternating kindness and hatred. Red wine was for the lovelorn. She was now the walking wounded.

A year and a half. That's what she had left on her contract. But maybe if she pissed him off enough he would finally use that little employment clause and fire her. It would be easier. She was tired. She was so very tired. Maybe it was time to admit this had been a very bad idea from the start, and that the only way to survive life without Will was to be far, far away from him.

She curled up on her side with a glass of vodka and listened to the phone ring from the other side of the room. It was one in the morning. It could only be one person and she had to wonder, did he still call her on evenings when Nina shared his bed? Did they laugh at the fact that she obviously had no life since she was available to take his calls at all hours of the day and night? They must find her pitifully adorable. She was tired of being adorable.

She got up and trudged into the bathroom to splash some water on her face and all she could see were puffy eyes and runny mascara and lines and wrinkles that didn't used to be there. Will was right…she wasn't as cute as she thought she was. Not anymore.

Well, at least he wasn't dating some vapid twenty year old perfume counter spritzer girl. Nina was reasonably intelligent, and reasonably attractive, and suitably close in age, and a fixture on the New York social scene, and really, perfect in so many ways that she wasn't for Will. Nina would smooth over the rough edges that Mackenzie had always loved about him. She would probably make him quit smoking pot, and drinking too much, and she would encourage his middle of the road broadcasts that would surely endear him to a million new viewers. Reese would be thrilled. She could see it all now. A stunningly public courtship and wedding. Leona Lansing's cunning smile would light up The Rainbow Room as the media elite gathered to toast them.

Mackenzie slouched down in bed and slurped at her third vodka and pictured all of this in her head. She was twisting the knife a little deeper because it would be so much easier to deal with all of this in the quiet of her own apartment. If she faced all her worst thoughts about what could possibly be going on in his penthouse right now, and if she did it while drunk out of her mind, maybe she would be able to face him tomorrow. Maybe.

She could barely swallow the next morning. In fact, she was quite certain her tongue was now permanently affixed to the roof of her mouth. She cracked open one eyelid and shut it again as quickly as possible. Who the hell decided morning should come so damn early? And what was that God-awful blaring noise next to her head?

The phone. It was the phone. Her landline. Something no one ever called. She pulled herself upright and stared at the fuzzy red numbers on her alarm clock. Ten thirty? How the hell had _that_ happened, she wondered? And then she spied the nearly empty bottle of vodka on the floor and remembered exactly how that had happened. And she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, or the image of Will and Nina that flashed before her eyes, that made her rush for the bathroom.

"What?!" she finally screamed into the phone ten minutes later. She was trying to fix coffee with shaking hands and a splitting headache, and the damn phone wouldn't stop ringing, so finally she had to accept that the only way to make the continuous racket end was to answer the damn thing.

"It's nearly eleven o'clock. Where in the hell are you?" Will's voice asked, real concern coloring his tone. Did he actually give a damn? Oh right, she was his E.P. Had to keep the show afloat, didn't he?

"I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. I overslept. I'll be there as soon as I can" she assured him. She hung up before he could murmur fake words of concern and she could pretend she didn't know about Nina. She just didn't know how they would do that in person…play some grown up version of make-believe where he tried to act as if nothing had changed and she tried to go along with it.

As she shed her clothes to enter the shower she stared at the scar across her belly and wondered…was there one on her back too? Because, as it turned out, imaginary knife wounds hurt just as much as the real ones did. Unfortunately, no one offered you morphine for those.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Many thanks for the lovely reviews on the first chapter of this one guys. I truly thought it was going to be a one-shot, but I guess you all convinced me otherwise. See, reviews really do inspire us! This is for Ash and the other ladies at the Newsroom Writer's Group, who begged shamelessly for more. Here it is…I figured writing more angst was the best way to handle Willie Pete. Well, better than hunting down Sorkin and knocking some sense into his head. And this way, I don't go to jail. Read on…**

_Everybody wants to touch somebody  
If it takes all night  
Everybody wants to take a chance  
Make it come out right  
~Heartache Tonight, The Eagles_

What if you knew the last time was going to be the last time? She'd given that a lot of thought lately, particularly since the events of the previous day, because she _had_ known…sort of. She'd convinced herself to tell him ten different times, in ten different ways, and imagined ten different scenarios of how it all could end. But if she was honest with herself, she knew the minute the words 'Brian Brenner' were out of her mouth, it would be over. And so, she prepared for it.

She remembered every last detail of the last time they'd made love. He'd thought something was wrong. She had seemed on the verge of tears the entire time and he thought she was in pain. She _was_. But it wasn't physical pain. It was a deeper, more agonizing, ache somewhere deep inside of her. She tried to remember their sounds, and their smells, and the way they touched, because she knew it was never going to happen again.

Now all those images, the ones that had comforted her during long lonely nights in the desert, were coming back to haunt her. Did he do the same things with _her_? Were the things you did during sex the same, no matter who you were with? Were they ingrained habits, born of a lifetime of sexual experience, or were they a response to the one who happened to be sharing your bed? Did he press Nina Howard into the mattress with his body weight and pin her hands together above her head, the way he had with her? Jesus, she had to stop this. The vodka was still churning around in her empty stomach and that image was nearly enough to make her vomit on the sidewalk outside AWM. Nearly.

"Keep going" she ordered everyone, as she trudged into the conference room in the middle of the rundown meeting, looking far worse for wear than she had the day before. They all stopped and stared for a moment as she chugged half a bottle of water in an attempt to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

"You look like hell" Will informed her from the end of the table.

"Thank you. Nothing like a heartfelt compliment to start the day. Neal, tell us of the wonders of yet another Occupy Wall Street/Quaker committee meeting. How many things _do_ they have hand signals for? Because I can think of one I'd like to use right about now." She mumbled this last part, hoping no one would hear it, but of course everyone did, and a few heads turned, because that was just the kind of luck she had lately. You know, the kind that guarantees that you look into just the right bar, at just the right moment, to catch the love of your life cuddling with a traitorous blond tabloid reporter? Yeah, that was _exactly_ the kind of luck she had right now.

"Mac, are you alright?" Jerry asked, and she realized he was staring at her hands. She looked down and they were shaking.

"Can you finish this?" she asked him, pleading with her eyes for him to understand her. Mercifully, he did. Maybe he was a better guy than she'd been giving him credit for. Maybe he'd make a decent E.P. for Will, if the man could just stop calling him Harry.

"Yeah" he said quietly. She got up quickly and headed for her office. She should have known _he_ would follow. He had a knack for knowing just when he shouldn't push an issue…and then he did it anyway. It made for a great anchor and a lousy boyfriend. Should she tell Nina Howard that?

She popped a couple aspirin into her mouth and washed it down with lukewarm coffee and set her head on her desk. The room was spinning, and the walls were closing in, and Will was lurking outside her door and she wished it would all go away.

"You ok?" he asked, poking his head into her doorway.

"Never been better" she told the smooth walnut finish of her desktop. Please, please go away. I don't want you here now. _You_ don't want you here now. I'm hungover, and you're fucking Nina Howard, and nothing good can come of that combination Will.

"Why didn't you just stay home?" he asked, as if this were a simple head cold, and everything would be alright if only she could take some Nyquil and sleep a few hours more. This will never be ok, Will, and I should have realized that a long time ago. I should have realized it when you overdosed on bourbon and anti-depressants. I should have realized it when the fates conspired to make sure I never got that voicemail message. I should have turned and walked away when you first commented on Nina Howard's legs in a rundown meeting. I should have done so many things differently, but I can't, and you can't, and as soon as Jim is back I need to leave.

_Ah! There it is! The solution!_ Now that she was thinking a little more clearly she could see how this all would play out. Jim would spend a couple more weeks banging his head against the brick wall that was the Republican political machine, and then he would see the light, and it would lead him back to New York. Maggie would spend a week or two in Africa, and wouldn't be quite so green and naïve, and she'd realize that Don had been the wrong man all along. Don would work through his brokenhearted anger by badgering Sloan until she gave in and went on a date with him. And Will and Nina would retire to their penthouse in the sky. It was perfect! If only she could get through the next couple of weeks, everything would be just fine, and she could leave.

"Home. You're right. I should have just stayed home" she agreed. And he walked out of her office, never realizing the epiphany she had just had. She never should have been here at all. Charlie never should have tried to play matchmaker and she never should have allowed this farce to continue. It was time for everyone to face facts.

Because, despite what she had believed, Will wasn't hers anymore, and he never would be.

And, despite what Will liked to believe, she wasn't an American. She was British. And it was time to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: The reviews are lovely folks…keep 'em coming! They are the imaginary chocolate that feeds my soul and keeps me up late at night churning out fic. It's been awhile since I threw this disclaimer out there, so I guess I should. No, I don't own The Newsroom, never have, never will. And I also don't own The Eagles, who I frequently quote and use for fic inspiration. I have borrowed the lyrics to their classic "Desperado" for this chapter. It is done in admiration and with deepest respect. On with the show…**

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses  
Come down from your fences, open the gate  
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you  
You better let somebody love you, before it's too late  
~Desperado, The Eagles_

Of course, the flaw in her plan had been Will, and hadn't he _always _been the flaw in her plan? In every fucking plan she'd ever had? He'd been the only man that ever made her think about marriage and kids and joint banking accounts and that, predictably, had scared the shit out of her. Had sent her running back to Brian _fucking_ Brenner. Will had been the only man she had to tried to forget, and that had sent her running to the Middle East. He'd been the only man she'd desperately wanted back, and that had brought her here. But now she had to leave, only he wasn't going to make that easy, damn it.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, two weeks later.

"Why am I doing what?" she responded curtly, though she knew what, and asking the question was merely a stall tactic on her part. Go away Will. I only have so much patience left. I only have so many minutes in the day that I can look at you and _not_ think of Nina _fucking_ Howard (and that was the new name Mackenzie had christened her with, because she seemed unable to even think of the woman without inserting _fucking_ in between her first and last names).

"Jim's been back for two days, and for two days he's been yacking in my ear. Why aren't you my E.P. anymore?" he asked, as he took a seat in front of her desk. She could see his shoes where his feet stretched out along the beige industrial carpeting. She could see them because she was still looking at the ground. She tried to look at him at little as possible these days.

"I'm still your E.P." she protested, but it was half-hearted at best, and they both knew it. Finally she looked up at him, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, daring him to challenge her. Her name was still on the closing credits. She still decided what went on the air. She just tried to have as little human contact with her anchor as possible. What was so wrong with that?

"Do _you_ even believe that Mac? This can't go on forever, you know?" he asked, eyebrow raised and half-grin on his face.

Oh no, don't you try to laugh your way through this one Will. I lost my ability to find humor in this situation when I saw you and Nina _fucking_ Howard on the cover of _In Touch Weekly_ while I was standing in line at the drug store yesterday. It's bad enough that I spend fifteen hours a day with you. Now I have to be assaulted by your _relationship_ when I'm buying shampoo?! Fucking shampoo?! No, you don't get to laugh at this anymore Will. Because I can't even escape you and Nina _fucking_ Howard on a Sunday morning errand, and if that didn't tell me just how desperately I need to get out of this fucking city, then I don't know what would.

"I don't know what you're talking about" she responded. If he could _fuck_ Nina _fucking_ Howard, then she could play dumb. Maybe he _liked_ dumb, if Nina _fucking _Howard was any indication.

"Mackenzieeee" he said wearily, drawing out the syllables in her name the same way she had pleaded with her mother for candy as a child…_but Mum-meeeeee_.

"Please don't whine Will, it's unbecoming of a man of your stature" she said sharply, making sure to emphasize her total lack of sympathy for him, because if she weren't careful, they would fall into their old bickering, and that was laced with kindness and caring and…fun. And the last thing she wanted Will to think was that she was having anything that even remotely resembled fun. She wasn't sure she even understood the _concept_ of fun anymore. Would she ever again?

"Fine" he replied shortly. "Stop handing Jim the headset" he ordered and got up to leave the room.

"Fine. It will be his soon enough anyway" she said softly, and he stopped in his tracks.

"What?!" he shouted.

"Nothing, Will. Nothing."

"You can't quit. I can fire you, but you can't quit. Remember that Mackenzie" he said coldly. She'd forgotten how cruel he could be when he was hurt or threatened. She'd backed him into a corner. Will never liked to be blindsided. But, of course, neither did she. Particularly not by backstabbing gossip columnists.

"I'm not contracted to _you_ Will. I'm contracted to ACN."

And that caught him up short. She could see it in his blank expression and the wheels furiously turning inside his head. He'd forgotten all about that. She wasn't contracted to _NewsNight_ or to him. Her contract was with ACN.

"What does that mean Mackenzie?" And there it was again, he was back to calling her Mackenzie, not Mac, or Kenz, or Kenzie. He was already distancing himself from her and he didn't even know it. Good Will, good. That's exactly what we need to do. It will be so much easier this way.

"Nothing. Have a good show" she said firmly, trying her best to muster a small smile. She looked down at her watch and tapped the face for good measure, reminding him that he needed to get going.

"Do your job Mac" was all he said as he left, but it was almost a question. Please, would you _please_ do your job Mac? Would you please _stay_? That was what he was really saying.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Sloan asked later that night at Hang Chew's.

"Yes" she replied, feeling she owed her friend a straight answer, even if that meant risking it ending up on the front page of _The New York Times_ the next morning. Sloan was an amazing friend, and an amazing economist, and the worst person in the world to keep a secret. Maybe she didn't care anymore.

"Where will you go?"

"To our London office. My father hasn't been well and I'd like to be closer" she said, and it wasn't a total lie. "I have to find a way to get Will to accept Jim and to get Charlie to stop trying to fix it all. But after that I can leave" and she said all this as if it was a fait accompli and not a huge uphill battle she still had to fight. If only there was some way to force their hand. To make this not just possible, but probable. To make everyone see the light. She had to go. And she had to go soon. It would be in everyone's best interest.

"You're a fucking awful liar Kenzie" Sloan said, leaning on the bar and propping her head on her hands, as she took a long, hard look at her friend.

"Good thing I'm not a spy then, huh?" she replied, looking into her near-empty drink and wishing another one would appear. Sloan signaled the bartender. Thank you, thank you she wanted to say, but these days she felt the less she said the better. Because if she opened her mouth any more than absolutely necessary, she was sure she would either start screaming or crying, and she didn't know which would mortify her more.

"I thought journalists were supposed to be good liars?" Sloan asked rhetorically.

"Not if you're a good one. The good ones don't have to lie" Mackenzie replied, and that was exactly why she had to leave. Because if she stayed, in order _to_ stay, she would have to become one of those people who could lie right to the face of the person they held most dear and say that everything was just fine…everything would be alright. And that was the furthest thing from the truth right now. _Nothing_ was fine. _Nothing_ would ever be alright._ Ever._

"You're one of the best Kenz. Stay. You don't have to work on Will's show. Produce my show. Zane can go to _NewsNight_" Sloan pleaded, and they both laughed. The idea of Zane producing _NewsNight_ was almost as insane as Will and Nina _fucking_ Howard being a couple. Almost.

"Thank you Sloan. I needed a laugh" she told her friend, and then, to her horror, the tears started and she couldn't stop them. She couldn't have stopped them if her life depended on it…and in a way it did. She had to get through a few more days and she didn't have time to break down. She still had to figure out how to leave ACN New York gracefully, or at least legally, and then she could totally fucking lose it. When she was in her parent's house, safely tucked away in her childhood bedroom, where no one could hear her tears…then, she could fall apart.

"Come here please." Will's voice travelled through her ears and down into her belly, and she felt warmer, and vaguely sick, all at once. No, no, no. I have to put up with you all day. I don't have to do it at ten minutes till midnight too. But he was pulling her up by her arm, and dragging her across the room, before she could dig her heels in to resist.

_Resistance is futile_ her brain whispered…and she laughed. God, she was finally starting to lose it. Maybe that would be good. Maybe that would be better. Insanity would be the best way to deal with this. Dancing sure as hell _wouldn't _be.

Dancing, Will? Really? And fuck it all if one of their favorite songs wasn't playing. Jesus Christ! Could fate try to make this _any_ more difficult? But fate could, and fate had, and still the band played on.

"You can't leave" he told her, as he pulled her close and held one hand in his, pressed to his chest. Her other hand, naturally and as if it remembered, found his back. And they swayed together to _Desperado_.

"You can't tell me what to do" she replied, and damn, she was talking! And she sounded reasonable and steady and calm. Impressive. She hadn't known she had it in her.

"I'm your boss" he said stubbornly.

"No. _Charlie_ is my boss. _Reese_ is my boss. _You_ are my soon to be ex-managing editor and anchorman. I told you a three year contract was the longest commitment I'd ever made. Turns out it was a bad idea."

"It wasn't" he said stubbornly.

"It _was_" she said sadly.

"Can I change your mind? Let me try to change your mind Mac" he pleaded, and part of her wanted to let him. But that would only prolong the inevitable.

"No" and he seemed to understand, so they both held each other a little tighter and said goodbye right there on the dance floor. She could hear him humming into her ear, and she tried to hold onto that too, as the strains of the music swelled toward the ending.

_Desperado, you ain't getting' no younger  
Your pain and your hunger, they're driving you home  
And freedom, oh freedom, well that's just some people talkin'  
Your prison is walking through this world all alone_

"Where will you go?" he asked huskily, and she could tell he too was holding back tears.

"Home" was all she could say.

"I'm sorry" he whispered.

"Me too." She pulled away as the song ended and left him standing alone in the middle of the bar.

_You better let somebody love you, before it's too late_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: You guys are just stupendously awesome with the reviews! I must admit, I have been slacking on my reviewing lately, but only because I've been writing so much, not because I don't think these new stories are worthy of reviews. It's been amazing seeing new authors and stories popping up on this site, as well as the return of a few of my favorite writers, who I thought had disappeared. Oh, and once again, I don't own The Newsroom or Don Henley and The Eagles. If you thought I did, you live in a more altered reality than I do, and that's saying something. **

_He had a home, the love of a girl  
But men get lost sometimes, as years unfurl  
One day he crossed some line  
And he was too much in this world  
But I guess it doesn't matter, anymore  
In a New York minute, everything can change  
~New York Minute, Don Henley_

"She's leaving. What are you going to do about it?" Will asked, as he barreled into Jacob Habib's office on a cold, wet Tuesday morning.

"I assume we're talking about Mackenzie?" Habib replied, shuffling the papers on his desk into an orderly pile and tossing them into a drawer.

"Of course we're talking about Mackenzie. What the hell else do we ever talk about?!" Will shouted, pacing the room frantically and running his hands through his hair so forcefully that Habib feared the man was going to do some serious damage soon.

"And why am _I_ supposed to do something about her leaving?" Habib asked calmly.

"Because, I've paid you more than a hundred grand for therapy and I don't have a fucking thing to show for it. So fix this! Fix Mackenzie!" he pleaded.

"I can't fix Mackenzie. I can't even fix _you_ Will. Only you can do that."

"Is that annoying know-it-all tone of voice, coupled with meaningless phrases like 'only you can fix you', something they teach you in shrink school?" Will asked, slumping, defeated into a chair in the corner.

"Can I ask _you_ something Will? If you truly believe that psychiatry is nothing more than vague theories and meaningless platitudes, why do you keep coming back?"

Habib's direct gaze was starting to make him nervous. Damn it! This was exactly what he _didn't_ need right now. Somebody else judging him…looking down their nose at him. The staff was doing that enough already. Hell, even Mac was doing that now. Somehow, somewhere along the line, _he_ had become the guilty one. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He was guilty the minute he slept with Nina Howard. Because he and Mac may not have been together, but they had been getting there. And it scared the shit out of him. And he knew that Nina Howard would be the best way to make Mackenzie take a step back. He just didn't realize it would be a giant step back…all the way to fucking England! Jesus, his life was a mess!

"I don't exactly have a lot of people to talk to. You're a good listener" Will admitted begrudgingly.

"I'm paid to be a good listener. Eventually, what you're going to need is a friend Will."

Will absolutely hated that smug, superior look the young doctor was giving him. What I _really_ need, doc, is to smack that self-satisfied smirk off your face, but that would probably land me in the tabloids too. And one tabloid disaster a week was enough.

"I have friends" he pouted.

"You have _a_ friend. Charlie. You _used_ to have friends, because you had Mackenzie too. Now, I'm guessing you don't. Did you think she'd stick around forever? Did you think that, just because she hurt you once, you had the right to hurt her _until_?" Habib asked, watching his patient with interest.

"Until what?" Will asked, truly curious.

"Until you felt you had done it enough. Until you felt she had suffered enough. Until you were able to either forgive her or move on. _Until_ you felt some sort of relief. Isn't that what you've been waiting for all these months? To do or say something to her that satisfied your need for vengeance ? Well, did it work?" Jacob asked.

"No" Will said sadly. "It didn't work at all. It backfired spectacularly if you must know."

"Of course it did. Because vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord" Habib intoned.

"Of for fuck's sake! Biblical quotes? Right now, you want to give me fucking biblical quotes?! Well, whatever happened to thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife? Or thou shalt not fuck your weasely ex-boyfriend while you're living with me?!" Will shouted.

"She wasn't your wife, and yes, she did fuck her ex-boyfriend, but you've known this for years now, and you don't seem to be any closer to forgiving her. To err is human…" Habib began.

"To forgive, divine" Will finished for him. "But I sure as hell am not divine, so why the fuck is everyone on my back about forgiving her?!"

"Because, most people who can't forgive someone choose not to be near them. Have you ever asked yourself why you do?"

"She's my E.P. I have to be near her."

"You paid three million dollars to have the right to fire her, and yet you haven't. If you can't forgive her, let her go. For you…for her…for the people around you. Let it go, Will."

"Don't you think I'm trying? Do you think I _want_ to be mad at her?"

"Actually, yes, I _do_ think you want to be mad at her. You're not a stupid man Will. You wouldn't do something that wasn't giving you a pay-off…some sort of satisfaction. What are you getting out of this?"

"You think I'm _enjoying _this? How the hell can you say that?"

"Because I see the look on your face when you talk about her. No matter how angry you are, no matter how many times you've assured me that she is nothing more than your E.P., your friend, your most trusted partner…you are _happy_ when you talk about Mackenzie, Will. Happy in a way that you aren't when you talk about anything else. Not the news, not your family, hell, not even a really good glass of scotch. Logically, it makes no sense. You adore her. So why do you keep hurting her?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know is a child's answer, Will. You're a grown man, and you _do _know."

Will bit back a chuckle.

"What?" Habib asked.

"She said that to me once too. She never lets me get away with 'I don't know' or 'because'. She never lets me get away with anything" he admitted. She was the only one who could demand things from him. He wanted to be more for her. He wanted to be the man she thought he was. He wanted _her_ to be the woman he thought _she_ was. Oh!

"She wasn't supposed to hurt me" Will reluctantly told the man sitting across from him, fingers laced together, waiting expectantly.

"And she did."

"Yeah. She did."

"And you seem to think that hurting her back will change that. It won't. Somewhere, deep down, you have to know that. You're only turning into someone you won't like very much. And neither will she."

"I don't think she likes me much right now" Will whispered.

"I would think not. You slept with the woman who hacked her phone. You let her find out about it through the tabloids. You're letting her continue to be humiliated in public. If this is what you do to someone you love, I'd hate to see what you do to your enemies."

"I never meant…" Will began, but Habib cut him off.

"Let's be honest here Will, you _did_ mean for it to hurt her and you _did_ mean for her to find out. If you just wanted sex, you could have been more discreet. If you wanted a real relationship, you wouldn't have sought out a tabloid reporter. If you can't be honest in here, with me, how will you ever be honest with _her_?"

"Good point."

"What? Was that a compliment? Do you finally admit to the validity of psychoanalysis?"

"Don't push it" Will growled.

"End it Will. End it now. Either forgive her or fire her. But don't keep doing this to her, to yourself, or to the innocent bystanders you're dragging into this. All the meaningless sex in the world won't change how you feel about Mackenzie. Stop pretending it will."

"How do I make her stay?" he begged.

"Be honest with her. That's all you can give her at this point. But I'd be willing to bet it's all she wants."

Honesty…interesting concept. Maybe it was time to give it a shot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: I apologize for the brevity of this chapter and the way it ends. I know some of you are going to want to hurt me, but have faith, this story is not over yet. My evil brain just had to throw a little bit more angst into the mix. I'm sure the sunnier portion of my personality will kick in soon and reward you with fluff…maybe. And I must send a big get well soon out to LilacMermaid and a keep your chin up to writingalone. Hang in there ladies!**

_I get this feeling I may know you  
As a lover and a friend  
But this voice keeps whispering in my other ear  
Tells me, I may never see you again  
~Peaceful, Easy Feeling, The Eagles_

Honesty? He actually paid Habib three hundred dollars an hour so the man could tell him to be _honest_ with Mackenzie?! Jesus Christ, when had he become one of those rich yuppies with his head so far up his ass that he needed to pay someone to give him blatantly obvious advice? Probably about the same time Mackenzie walked back into his life and turned his world upside down.

Well, his mother had always told him honesty was the best policy. Maybe he should have listened forty years ago, but he hadn't, and now here he was, talking to therapists and wondering what the hell to do next. _Be honest with her._ The words rang in his ears and taunted him now. Honesty may have been the best policy a few days ago, but not anymore. What was the best policy in the face of total fucking disaster, he wondered? Because before he'd even gotten the chance to be honest with Mac, they were facing the complete and utter catastrophe that was Genoa.

"Et tu, Nina?" he asked, as he stared across the dining room table at her, holding up the front page of her newest tabloid rag. She must be so proud…the front page.

"It's news Will. Did you really expect me _not_ to cover it?" she replied, with a sweetness and innocence that belied her true nature. Once a bitch, always a bitch. His mother had said that to him too. Granted she was just repeating the words his father had barked out while beating her to a bloody pulp, but still, the words ran through his head like a mantra, as if his mother was speaking from the grave.

_Oh Mac, I'm so sorry._

"That's right Nina, it's _actual news_. Why are _you_ covering it?" He stood from the table and towered over her. For the most part, he didn't enjoy intimidating people, but then again, he'd never thought he would turn hurting Mackenzie into some kind of bloodsport either. Shit, when had they become these people?

"That was a low blow, Will" Nina said saucily as she looked up at him.

"No, it wasn't. It really wasn't. It was fitting. It was apropos. It was _exactly_ what was called for. Did you enjoy bringing Mackenzie into this? Aren't you the one who tried to convince me that I still loved her? What was all that female bonding bullshit? A ploy? A plot? A really evil, fucking way to mess with her mind?"

"I'm not the one messing with her mind. I don't owe her a thing. I think this is my cue to exit stage right, as they say. Fix it Will. Fix it before it can't be fixed" Nina told him, grabbing her purse and her shoes and leaving his apartment.

_Damn, now even two-timing gossip columnists are lecturing me on how to treat Mackenzie. _

He could tell the minute he entered the newsroom that it was all over. It was the beginning of the end and he had no one to blame but himself…and Nina Howard…and Jerry Dantana.

"Where is she?" he asked, and of course, he didn't have to say her name. Everybody knew.

"With Charlie" Maggie said quietly, and holy hell, why had she gotten caught up in this too? If he hadn't been fucking a tabloid reporter, and Mackenzie hadn't been stumbling around here like the walking wounded, would any of this have happened? Would Jerry Dantana have been here feeding them false information? Would Mac have let Maggie go to Africa to chase the story that became her undoing? What the _fuck_ had they been thinking? What the fuck had _he_ been thinking?

"Tell me you're here to stop her" Charlie said, as Will entered. But Mackenzie refused to turn around. She stared out the window of Charlie's office and focused on some far away point only she could see.

"From what? Jumping?" he asked, and he was only half-joking, because she already looked half-dead.

"It's best for everyone Charlie. It's the perfect solution" she said with such a lifeless tone that it sent chills down his spine.

"_What's_ best for everyone? What the hell are we talking about?" Will shouted, because surely someone would tell him soon, and it couldn't possibly be worse than what he was imagining…could it? But then he saw the newspapers and tabloids spread out on Charlie's desk, including Nina's hatchet job which placed the blame for Genoa squarely on Mackenzie's shoulders, and he felt sick.

"I'll take the fall for Genoa. AWM will fire me, with a generous severance package, and everyone can go back to their lives. Charlie will explain to the BBC that this was all just a ploy to cover your ass, so they won't think they're hiring a total imbecile. Everyone moves on. Jerry fucking Dantana goes back to D.C. with his tail between his legs, and no one will be the wiser."

Mackenzie had said all of that without even taking a breath. She gave him a small smile though, and it broke his heart to see how much that smile had cost her. She was sacrificing herself for him…for the staff, and some small part of her seemed relieved. And then he understood. She had finally paid her penance. She would leave with a clear conscience and a broken heart.

_I'm giving you a gift Will. Take it. Save your career. It's the only thing you have left._

"No. I don't accept that. There has to be another way" he pleaded. Charlie looked down at his shoes, wishing like hell he had some way to stop this train wreck, but he didn't. Mackenzie was right. This was the only viable solution. Charlie walked out of his office and left them alone.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"Let's at least make this all worthwhile. Let me do this for you Will. Let me do this for _them_" she said, nodding out toward the newsroom.

"This won't change anything. We still have to come clean about airing a story that didn't have a kernel of truth to it. Stay. We can fix this Mac" he pleaded, but he knew the moment the words left his mouth that they weren't true, and worse yet, they were a dagger to her heart.

She laughed for a moment. But it was mirthless, and dry, and painful to hear. It actually _hurt_ to listen to her force a chuckle past her lips. Because it sounded absolutely _nothing_ like her real laughter, which, when it happened, was like a musical tinkling of bells that set off something in his stomach and made him smile.

"We can't fix this Will. We never could."

"I won't accept your resignation. I won't let Charlie fire you" he said, grasping desperately for anything he could use to make her stay.

"I'm not contracted to you Will" she said with infuriating calm, reminding him of her earlier threats. Damn it, she was right. "I'm contracted to ACN. And ACN just terminated that contract."

They stared at each other for one uncomfortably long moment. And then she turned and left.

He stood there, looking at the spot she had just been standing in, and wondered how empty space could cause so much pain. Will remembered talking to a friend of his in advertising once and the man had been trying to explain the concept of negative space. It seems that, if you're not careful, the image in the center of your photo can be dwarfed by the empty space around it. Sometimes, one's eye is even tempted to fill in that giant white space surrounding the picture's focal point, by turning it into an image of its own. Will finally understood the concept, because in the space Mackenzie left behind, he could see their future disappearing.

"Fuck" he muttered to himself, and maybe to Charlie, and maybe even to Mackenzie…though she would never hear it.

_Fucking Nina Howard. Fucking Jerry Dantana. Fucking Genoa and the fucking Air Force punctuation prick who brought it to them. _

_No, he really had no one to blame but himself for this mess. Period. Fucking exclamation point! _

He'd finally driven her away.

"Fuck me" he whispered as he slumped into a chair.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: Many thanks for the reviews and support on this one and the help from several fellow Newsroom fans who read early copies of some chapters and reassured me that they weren't total crap. I give you the final chapter of Heartache Tonight. Still don't own The Newsroom or The Eagles, but I fervently believe that someday I will. No, not really…just thought I'd say that. Enjoy!**

_Hi there, how are ya?  
It's been a long time, seems like we've come a long way  
My but we learn so slow  
And heroes they come and they go  
And leave us behind, as if we're supposed to know…why?  
~Pretty Maids All in a Row, The Eagles_

She had stopped in the United Airlines Red Carpet Club at JFK and ordered herself a scotch while she waited for her flight to begin boarding. And because she was feeling particularly masochistic at the moment, she asked the bartender to change the channel on the flat screen tv in the corner to ACN.

_And there he was_. So she sat. And she waited. Because even though she knew exactly what he was going to say, she'd written the script for him after all, she was bound and determined to see this through. Maybe, if she watched him actually throw her under the bus, she would be able to move on.

"A year ago, I went on the air and apologized to you, the American public, for dropping the ball. For choosing to join the media circus rather than sticking to my principles and sense of journalistic integrity. For participating in a slow, and determined, and relentless deconstruction of what the news is meant to be: an unvarnished, unbiased look at tough issues. I thought that the truth was what I was bringing you last week. A story that needed to be told. A story that, had it been accurate, could have toppled a presidency and sent military leaders to prison. A story that was wrong."

She watched him deliver this speech in the same way that you watched a car accident happen. You knew it was horrible. You knew the outcome was going to be painful. But you couldn't tear your eyes away. She wasn't even aware of the tears cascading down her cheeks. She dropped her head into her hands and waited with bated breath for the next line. The words that she knew would rip her heart out.

"I take full responsibility for the error in judgment that was made." Her head whipped up in shock.

_What?! That's not what he was supposed to say next! Damn it, Will! I wrote every fucking word down for you! All you had to do was look at the camera, open your mouth, and speak! All you had to do was blame me! You've been doing it effortlessly for a year and a half! What was so fucking hard about doing it NOW?! _

"My staff and I thought we had received factual information from trusted sources. We were wrong. But I am the anchor and managing editor of this program, and as such, the buck stops here. There is no one more at fault for the report on Operation Genoa than me. I trusted a senior producer at this network to bring me the truth…and he failed. But the blame for this failure must fall on the person at the top of the chain of command, and that is me. Should you, the American public, wish to see me continue on here at _NewsNight_, I will do my best to correct the errors that have occurred in these past few days and weeks. Should you, and the board of directors at ACN, decide that these errors are unforgivable and can only be remedied by my dismissal, I will abide by that ruling too."

_What are you playing at Will? Reese is going to have your head. I made a deal with him. He wouldn't go after you if I quit. What the hell was the point of any of this if you get fired too?!_

"I'm sorry. I am so very sorry" Will said, staring directly into the camera, and perhaps, directly into her soul.

_He was talking to her now. She knew it._

"I'm Will McAvoy. Good night."

_Fucking hell! You've really gone and done it this time Billy. Oh God, you apologized. You apologized to me on national television! No one else will ever know that…but I do. Oh God!_

She pushed away from the bar so quickly that the stool she had been sitting on toppled over. She grabbed a twenty dollar bill from her wallet and slammed it down onto the counter and ran as fast as she could. Everyone around her probably thought she was running to catch a flight. No, she was running to catch her future.

The ride through downtown Manhattan had never gone so slowly in her life. Even at nine o'clock at night, traffic was snarled and heavy and grating on her last nerve. She threw money at the cab driver and ran the last three blocks.

"You're a complete and utter fool!" she told him, bursting into his office. She dropped her purse and carry-on to the floor and stood there, suddenly too weary to move. The last couple of weeks were finally catching up to her.

"I couldn't do it. I looked at the words you'd written and I just couldn't do it Mac. I couldn't go on the air and blame you. It would have felt wrong, and hurtful, and punitive and I think I've made you suffer enough, haven't I?" he asked, stubbing out the cigarette he'd been smoking.

She just nodded dumbly.

"You're back" he murmured, and then rethought how he had said that. "You're back?" he asked, letting his inflection indicate it was a question and not a statement of fact. He couldn't keep thinking of her as a foregone conclusion. She wasn't. She never had been. She had to make the decision this time. To stay here…to stay with _him_.

"I am" she said firmly.

"Ok" he nodded.

"Ok" she agreed. "What now?" she asked, because really, where did they go next? She had laid the perfect solution at his feet and he had refused it. Refused to sacrifice her to save himself. She should have known better. Will would never have been able to live with himself if he had gone along with it.

"Now, we wait" he responded…and then they heard it.

"What in the name of holy hell was that?!" Charlie shouted, bursting into the newsroom.

"And there it is" Will intoned.

"She set it up for you! She did everything but say the God damned words for you and you spit in her face!" Charlie screamed as he pushed into Will's office.

"Hi Charlie" Mackenzie said quietly.

"You're here?" he asked, bewildered, looking between the two of them.

"I am" she replied.

"And _you_ just implicated Jerry Dantana!" Charlie spit out at Will.

"I told the truth. When did that become a punishable offense?" Will asked.

"When you implied, on national television, that this entire thing was Dantana's fault."

"It was" Will said simply.

"You know that. And I know that. And _she_ knows that" Charlie said, nodding at Mackenzie. "But there hasn't been an internal investigation. Legally, you had no right to tell the entire world that he fucked up!" Charlie spit out.

"I didn't tell the world. The only people who would know who I was talking about are in this room. Or out there in the newsroom" he said, pointing at the staff. "And they won't talk. Will they Mac?" he asked, looking at her.

"No."

"Well, then. No harm, no foul. Let's get out of here" Will said as he grabbed her purse and carry-on and led her to the door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Charlie screamed.

"Home?" Will said questioningly.

"You don't get it, do you?" Charlie said wearily, hands dropping to his sides.

"No, I really don't."

"You've forced Reese into a corner. He's either going to have to fire you or Dantana. Are you that confident in your public persona right now? Do you really think the viewing audience is rushing to their phones or their computers to deluge AWM with requests for you to stay? I hope you're ready to be off the air for awhile" Charlie warned.

"I am" Will said quickly and without giving it a second thought. Because he was looking at how weary, and beaten down and, despite it all, _hopeful_, Mackenzie seemed in that moment. She was waiting for him.

"Let's get out of here" he said, pushing the door open for her and leaving a stunned, but goofily grinning Charlie Skinner in their wake.

"We are probably both out of a job" she warned him once they were alone in the elevator.

"Yeah" he said, but still he continued to smile.

"Why are you smiling then?" she asked.

"Because I can't think of anyone who I would rather spend my unemployment with" he told her, grabbing her hand.

"Reese is going to have to fire you or Jerry now" she reminded him.

"I vote for Dantana" he grumbled.

"Me too. But if he fires him, Dantana will have a hell of a wrongful termination suit. And you and I will be the chief witnesses. Are you ready for that?" she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"If it means you and I get to work together…somewhere, and go home together, and just fucking _be_ together…I'm ready for anything Mac."

"No, you're not" she said sadly, just as the elevator doors opened to deposit them in the lobby.

"Mac" he began, but she silenced him with a look. One that said, 'not here, not now.'

He watched her profile as Lonny drove them through the city and toward his apartment. She had leant her head against the window, and was idly pressing her fingertip against it, tracing the path of raindrops racing down the pane of glass. She looked lost and alone and who could he blame for that but himself?

"Mac?" he asked, softly.

"Hmm?" she replied, never even picking up her head to look at him. It seemed as if it would take too much effort.

"We're here" he told her, indicating his building. She looked stunned for a moment, and then relented, allowing him to lead her inside. She was too tired to fight.

"Are we alone?" she asked once upstairs.

"Of course we are. Who were you expecting?" he wondered aloud. She collapsed on the sofa and rolled her eyes at him. She wasn't too tired for that. For reminding him just how much he had fucked up in the last couple of weeks, and she wasn't talking about Genoa, she was talking about _them_. And Nina _fucking_ Howard.

"Oh" he mumbled, embarrassed. "Listen, Mac…"

"No, please don't backtrack or make excuses. It's none of my business. Or it wouldn't have been if you two had kept it out of the gossip magazines and if she hadn't written that damn take-down piece about my role in Genoa. I learned that term from you Will, remember? You wanted to civilize her. Did it work?"

"I deserved that" he told her, pouring two scotches and setting one down on the coffee table in front of her. She looked at it longingly, but didn't think she had the energy to reach for it. She was _that_ tired. And it was no longer just a physical fatigue from too many hours working and too few hours sleeping. It was a bone deep weariness that wouldn't leave. She was too tired to sleep, but too tired to stay awake, and what the hell did you do when that happened? She started laughing. At first, softly and to herself, and then it became a harsh cackle that startled Will into action.

"Drink" he urged, picking up her glass of scotch and helping her take a sip or two. "Are you ok?" he asked, fear coloring his features, as if he was waiting for her to lash out and hit him or completely fall apart. Either option seemed like a good idea to her at the moment.

"I'm tired Will. I'm so tired that I can't even think straight anymore. Do you know why?" she asked, falling back against the sofa cushions with her last bit of strength. He shook his head.

"Because I've spent weeks doing my job and Jim's job because Jim was pining for Maggie from New Hampshire. And Don is chasing Sloan, who is supposedly not talking to him, but is actually actively seeking his advice on nearly every segment she does, which means that Zane complains to Charlie about that and Charlie complains to _me_. And, oh yeah, have I mentioned that your slutty one-night-stand tabloid queen girlfriend just threw me to the wolves for allowing you to report Genoa? Has she met you Will? When was the last time anyone _allowed_ you to do anything?"

Mackenzie said all this without taking a breath and it seemed to sap her of any remaining energy. She slumped down and held out her hand, indicating that Will should hand her the scotch. He did, and watched as she gulped it down in one go.

"Hey, slow down. You're going to make yourself sick" he warned, pulling the glass from her grasp.

"I'd like to sleep Will. Can I just go to sleep now, please?" she asked, because she didn't know how much more energy she had, and she didn't want to ask him to carry her to bed. That would be too embarrassing for words.

"Yeah, do you have something in that bag to wear?" he asked, nodding at her carry-on.

"No. I was prepared for a flight, not a sleepover. I have books and magazines and an iPod in there. My luggage is probably half way to London right now" she chuckled mirthlessly.

"I'll get you a t-shirt" he told her, and then turned to go. Before he knew what was happening, she was standing behind him in his bedroom and stripping down to her underwear and holding out a hand impatiently. He was momentarily struck dumb, but then he remembered to hand her a shirt, and watched, enraptured, as she pulled it over her head and climbed into his bed.

"I'm too tired to care if _she_ was in here last night" she mumbled as her head hit the pillow.

"She wasn't" Will murmured, but he wasn't even sure she had heard him.

"Nina Howard was a low blow Will. If you don't want me here, tell me. Don't keep hurting me as some sort of sick, twisted attempt to see how much I will put up with until I leave. Forgive me or let me go. I'm done being a punching bag" she warned, and he knew it was true. He had a decision to make or she would make it for him. She would leave. She almost had.

He carefully climbed into bed behind her, moving slowly, giving her the chance to stop him. She didn't.

"I never meant to hurt you, I never meant…" but she stopped him.

"You _did_ mean to hurt me Will. I was getting too close and it scared the shit out of you. Nina Howard was just a very fucked up way of forcing me to back off. Well, fine. I back off. I give up. I don't give a flying fuck what was on the voicemail, ok? Now, stop fucking gossip girls as a way to detour me."

"You told me to have revenge sex…" he began, but it was the absolute worst thing to say and he regretted it the moment it passed his lips.

"You fucking imbecile!" she shouted, pounding her fists on the mattress and pushing herself up with the last reserves of energy she had. "I believe I said have revenge sex with every woman in the Tri-State area, not have _calculated_ revenge sex. There's a difference Will. One is meaningless fucking meant to taunt and annoy. The other is using one woman to fuck over another because you know _exactly_ how much it will hurt. That's not who you are Will. And I don't like to think that what I did to you three years ago fundamentally changed you."

They looked at each other and both slumped back against the headboard. Whatever was said here tonight would determine their future. Would she go back to England and never look back? Would he go back to Nina and try to forget that she was, in every way, the totally fucking _wrong_ woman for him?

"I was scared Mac. I didn't know, and I still don't know, how to forgive you. I want to, I _need_ to, but for some reason I can't. Tell me how. _Please_ tell me how" he begged, grabbing her hands up in his and looking at her like she could possibly know that answer.

"I think you already have. I think you were so fucking close, and it scared the shit out of you, so you went and fucked Nina _fucking_ Howard. I can't keep waiting for you to _not_ be scared Will. _Life_ is fucking scary. Get a grip and join the real world where people get hurt, and people leave, and people _die,_ but we all keep trying Will. You stopped trying and that's not you, and it's not acceptable, and it's not the man I fell in love with five years ago. If you're ready to try, I'm here. If you can't, then admit it. To me, to yourself, to the staff that adores you and would follow you over a cliff to report the truth. Are you in?" she asked, echoing the words she had uttered so many months before.

He was silent for a few agonizing moments. She waited. It's what she had been doing for months…waiting for him to join her…to join them…to be the man she _knew_ he could be.

"I'm in" he said firmly, and then wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her down into the cocoon of sheets that surrounded them. They both let out a deep sigh and sank into each other.

"Just at work?" she asked, and waited while he thought.

"No, not just at work Mac. I'm _all_ in…if you'll have me" he said meekly. She grasped his hands and helped him wrap them more tightly around her.

"I'm so tired, Billy" she nearly wept.

"Sleep, Mac. Sleep" he whispered and he began to croon softly into her ear.

_Every night, I'm lyin' in bed, holding you close in my dreams  
Thinkin' about all the things that we said, comin' apart at the seams  
We try to talk it over, but the words come out too rough  
I know you were tryin', to give me the best of your love_

Mackenzie's body became limp so quickly that it was almost a shock to her system. She felt like a toddler who slumped over the moment they heard the first strains of their favorite lullaby, because Will had sang this song to her a million times, and her body remembered. And because, as she listened to the lyrics intently, she realized they were an apology of sorts. For his boorish behavior and his stubborn refusal to let her back in. He was sorry…and he was finally ready to let it all go and just move on.

For the first time in days, she relaxed, and she sank into the pillows gratefully, smiling as his stubble-rough cheek pressed against hers. A few tears of happiness spilled over and she released a breath that felt like it had been trapped inside her for years. Because, as it turned out, having your heart pieced back together by the man you loved felt an awful lot like being stabbed in the stomach by an angry protester too. There was that moment of quiet disbelief at what was happening. And then a weary, terrifying acceptance. Followed by a peaceful stab of joy, so shocking that it took your breath away.

But in the end, it was infinitely more pleasant.

**The End.**


End file.
